


Compassion, Captain

by Bekahdawn21



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Choking, Drunk Sex, F/M, First Time, Light Choking, NSFW, Smut, like very light
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 02:30:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13917498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bekahdawn21/pseuds/Bekahdawn21
Summary: In a world where the tensions between mages and Templars runs high, where Kirkwall struggles with poverty, crime, and the lingering Qunari presence, Elena Hawke might be just what Knight-Captain Cullen needs.





	Compassion, Captain

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter actually takes place in the middle of Elena and Cullen's story, after the explosion of the Kirkwall Chantry, before their reunion in Skyhold. But of course, this is the first part I actually finished, because smut is much easier to write than say, plot. Anywho, these two have a bit of a history from their time in Kirkwall, so hopefully the story makes sense all around!
> 
> Hecka NSFW, slight choking.

The tavern lay well on its way out of Kirkwall, safe from the chaos in the city but no cleaner for it. Elena walked in as if numb. After the last few days, it was hard to imagine what a normal, calm life would feel like. She paid for a room, dropping coins into the woman’s outstretched hand, and ordered food and drink. When she turned around, she almost dropped her mug to see a familiar head of blonde hair in the corner.

“Captain?” she asked as she approached.

Bloodshot eyes met hers, and eyebrows flew up in surprise and recognition.

“Elena?” he mumbled.

“Captain, what are you doing here?”

The man made an effort to sit up, almost knocking over his tankard in the process.

“Please, Elena. I’m not a Templar anymore,” he said.

“It’s only been a few days, Cullen. Have you already turned your back on the city?” Elena asked.

Anger clouded his face, turning his gaze sharp for a moment, “That city can rot in hell, for all I care.”

Elena simply watched him, waited for the anger to fade.

“That city could use a man like you to take care of it,” she finally said.

His face twitched, eyes swimming with tears for a moment.

“A man like me?” he repeated, “A drunk? An idiot who couldn’t even see the corruption in his own order?”

Elena ate, not responding, not know how to respond.

He did not talk again until she had finished her soup - lost deep in his thoughts, contemplating the bottom of his tankard like it was the Maker’s hand itself.

“Are you staying here?” Elena asked.

“I do not know, the innkeeper won’t look at me,” Cullen said, the bitterness in his voice making Elena wince.

But his anger faded as quickly as it had flared, and he sighed, “I cannot blame her.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Elena said, then slid her mug of water across the table to him, “Drink this.”

He complied, frowning when he realized it was just water, but when she looked back from the other side of the room, he’d all but tipped it into his mouth.

After assuring the innkeeper that Elena could take care of the drunk man, and paying for another room directly across the hall from the first one, she returned to him and tugged on his elbow until he stood.

“Let’s get you into bed.”

Cullen followed like a dejected puppy up the stairs, down the hall, shuffling into the bedroom that Elena unlocked and blinking at the single bed.

“Is this my room?” he asked.

“Yes,” Elena said, lighting an oil lamp, “I’ll be in the room across the hall.”

She lit a second oil lamp and turned to grab the door.

“Elena, please don’t leave,” Cullen’s sudden plea stopped her.

He crossed the room to her, the emptiness of his face replaced by a sort of manic intensity. He kept walking until she had backed into the door, and then stepped forward so that the heat rising off of his body enveloped her. He was taller than she remembered, towering six inches over her as he reached up and cupped her jaw with both hands. His lips scorched against hers, reminding her of something he’d said before - the heat of lyrium.

Was that metallic tang on his lips lyrium? As his lips pressed into hers, his body moved forward, the hard, cold plate of his armor squishing her breasts as his thighs burned into hers.

“Please,” he repeated, voice feathery and desperate.

“Cullen, you’re drunk,” Elena replied, but made no move away from him.

“Does that bother you?” he asked, breathless.

“I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret,” Elena said, even as his hands slid down over her collarbone, trying to find their way to her breast through the leather plate she wore.

“Please,” he repeated, his breath warm over her ear as he nibbled and then sucked on her neck.

Maybe her gasp was answer enough, because Cullen began to suck in earnest, his mouth sloppy on her neck as his hands fumbled for the straps of her armor. It fell away, followed by her small clothes, cold air rushing over her breasts and puckering her nipples into small, pebbly peaks. When Cullen’s hands finally found her skin, she whimpered, and the sound seemed to spur him on even more. He squeezed and pinched and stroked her breasts, then kissed his way down to one of them, bending awkwardly without a single concern to take one of her nipples into his mouth. She began to pant as he licked - it had been so long since she’d been touched - too long. She had hoped…that with Sebastian…

Her thoughts scrambled as Cullen took her nipple in his mouth and sucked, working slow circles with his tongue as he did so. She arched her back, just a little, and started to pant as Cullen’s free hand undid the laces of her breeches, one by one. His fingers burned as he stroked through her thick, wiry hair toward her clitoris, and when they found it, her entire body jerked at the sensation. He spent only a moment on it, sliding down between her lips and groaning against her breast when his fingers slipped through the wetness there.

Elena spread her legs as well as she could, practically on tiptoes to give him access, the grain of the door scratching her skin, and she didn’t care.

She moaned, bucking her hips, begging him to move his fingers and almost whimpering with relief when he finally slid a finger into her. He moved it in and out slowly, his thumb brushing her clitoris in a stuttered rhythm, joining his first finger with a second one before long, then a third. He stood without warning, pausing to squeeze her breast with his wet hand, leaving a cold, glistening trail. He crushed his lips to hers, again, and she arched to meet him, her hand searching until she found him, hard against the inside of his breeches, and began to stroke him through the fabric.

It was Cullen’s turn to pant, breaking away from her lips as he groaned, as she tore open the laces and shoved her hand underneath his smalls to stroke his skin.

“Elena,” he moaned, his voice strangled, “What do you want from me?”

In answer she pushed him backward, walking him step by step until his knees hit the bed, and he fell onto it with a thump. Without giving herself time to think about it, she stripped away her breeches and climbed on top of him. His eyes went wide at the sight of her, naked, straddling him, and they closed with a groan as she began to rock her hips forward, and backward, his cock sliding between her lips, rubbing her clitoris with each pass. She leaned down to kiss him again, his stubble scraping against her chin, and his free hand twisted until he could reach her lips. He held them open, their mouths still panting into each others, greedy, as Cullen brushed the tip of his cock against her opening. He pushed in just the tiniest amount, then slid back out, then in again, barely an inch.

“Cullen, please,” Elena begged into his lips, trying to slide her hips down onto him.

Finally, he pushed in past the first inch, so, so slowly, and Elena crumpled more and more with every centimeter gained until she had curled over Cullen’s chest, panting against his neck.

For a moment, they lingered there, Cullen’s cock settling in the last inch, making her moan again. Then Cullen began to thrust upward, lifting and then pulling Elena back down onto his cock by her waist, with restraint at first and then slamming into her as deeply as he could, her moans no longer quiet in any way. Without warning, he rose from the bed and flipped her over onto her back, thrusting faster, one of his hands finding her nipple and pinching and the other going to her throat. The second movement surprised even Cullen, and he hesitated, his rhythm breaking for a moment before Elena arched her neck and pulled his hand to it, holding it there until he got the idea, until his thrusting had resumed the same feverish rhythm and he was moaning louder, and louder. His hand, the warmth and pressure on her throat grounded her, a strange, comforting sensation, and Elena reached down with her other hand and started to rub her clitoris, arching her back as all of the stimulus pushed her over the edge and for a moment, she couldn’t think, couldn’t moan, couldn’t breathe, and Cullen was groaning, and shuddering to a stop over her as the end of her orgasm rippled through her like the aftershocks of an earthquake.

For a moment, in the quavering light of the oil lamps, they stayed there, Cullen bowed over Elena’s body, panting. She tried to move her legs and gave up when they trembled, instead resigning herself to her position, Cullen’s cock still throbbing inside of her.

He collapsed the rest of the way onto her, and she noticed something warm and wet tickling her stomach as his arms slid underneath her back as best they could. When he lifted his head, she could see the tears trembling at the edges of his eyelashes, glimmering just a little in the lamp light. It was like his orgasm had broken his rage, his inarticulate anger at what his life had shattered into.

“Elena, forgive me,” he said, “I didn’t…I know that I was angry with you, for lying to me. Or, not for lying, but for…”

He suddenly broke off, making a strangled noise of frustration and letting his head fall onto her stomach.

“That’s not what I want to say,” he groaned, his words muffled her skin, “I meant….I meant.”

He looked up again, the tears on his lash falling to splash on her skin, “I thought that you trusted me. I thought…I thought that we were close. And to be…cut off from such a big part of you. To know that you didn’t feel safe enough to tell me about your sister…I couldn’t. I couldn’t handle it. I…wanted you to care about me; I wanted to think that I…that I was someone you…you loved-”

He broke off again to a fresh sob, looking, for all the world, not like a man who had just touched her like he had, but like someone broken. Elena’s tears rose to answer his; seeing him like this, at the end of everything that had happened: after screaming at Anders, at Sebastian, parting from Bethany again, after watching the Knight-Commander dissolve into lyrium…she had no resistance to give. She reached down to him, brushing one of the tears away with her thumb.

“I forgive you, Cullen,” she said, “Of course.”

It was like the dawn had broken - like Andraste herself had descended from the heavens and touched his face. He took her extended hand in his and pressed his lips into her palm.

“Thank you,” he murmured, so quietly she almost didn’t think she’d heard it, “Thank you.”

Elena pulled him back to her, kissing him again, gently this time. Not with passion, not with need, but as someone who had found solace in the chaos.

In the morning, she slipped quietly out and cleaned herself in the washroom. The open road waited for her, and at the end of it, broken circles and lost mages, sent reeling by Anders’ actions. Maybe in an hour, Cullen would wake, find her gone. Maybe in a few hours, he would put on his cloak, slip his hand into his pocket. Maybe he would understand that in any other world, she would have stayed, but in this world, maybe, hopefully, he would hold the amulet - her amulet - close and know that it hadn’t been a dream.


End file.
